


I'm Sorry For Your Loss

by xrivainx



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6027288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xrivainx/pseuds/xrivainx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A box, a letter, a broken heart. Inspired by artwork from SiriusDraws on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sorry For Your Loss

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for heartbreak, so when SiriusDraws created a comic with the Inquisitor losing Cullen, I knew I had to write it.  
> But since I'm such a Lavellan stan, I had to adapt the plot and take a few creative liberties.
> 
> I asked SiriusDraws for permission to post this since idea was originally hers.

It was…difficult looking at the room.

It was his room. _Their_ room. The one place they could always resort to at night when they didn’t want to be disturbed. It held every wonderful memory she’d made since being at Skyhold, and now it was filled with sorrow, grief, longing.

Her fingers ran along the edge of the desk he was always working at, feeling every groove in the polished wood that he’d made since moving here. Even a few she’d made not so long ago.

 _If this is what it means to be a hero, I don’t want it anymore_.

But she couldn’t do that. She was forced into this damn role as the Herald of Andraste, she had to stay and be a beacon for whatever bloody reason there was now. It’s what he would have wanted her to do…right?

"Your Worship."

She was startled enough to hear her knuckles rap against the wood, though she kept the curse to herself as she turned. The soldier in the doorway had the saddest look on his face anyone in Skyhold was willing to give her.

"Yes?"

"There are some effects Commander Rutherford wanted passed onto you."

She felt her chest clench, something she wasn’t familiar with. Perhaps this is what it felt like to be human.

"Just…set them on the desk. Thank you."

She moved towards the bookshelves, trying not to focus on the image of the crates being placed atop the surface. A soft _clang_ told her they left his sword for her too. She wrapped her arms around her torso and tried to pretend she was looking for an old volume until the soldiers left.

Even after she heard the door close, it took her longer than she thought to turn. It was that turn that solidified it in her mind. The turn made her acknowledge that he was gone. The turn made her accept that there was nothing she could do to change it.

Despite best intentions, the fur of his pauldrons were the first visual. She couldn’t stop herself as she reached out towards them, picked them up, and buried her face into them. They still smelled like him. Lilies, a hint of alcohol mixed in with the polish, and if you focused very hard, the tiniest note of sweat he tried so hard to eliminate. It was more comforting than a trip home, hurt even more than she’d never be able to tell him.

She set the pauldrons aside, running her fingers through the fur once more. If she allowed herself a  moment, she would have started to break. But someone like the Herald can’t afford a moment like that.

His armor was packed neatly into the crate. A lonely beam of sunshine filtered through the cracks of the wood to reflect small multicolored shapes onto the beams above her. She ran her fingers over the designs once, too afraid to pull each piece out of the crate only to need to shove them back in haphazardly. A small smile formed on her face as she remembered him complaining about the time it took to clean each piece after a battle.

She took a moment to steel herself before moving onto the next crate.

Sitting upright was the chess board he’d bought for their own private matches. The marble squares showed no signs of wear, despite the fact they must have broken a hundred games in the past few months. The board was lighter than she remembered, was it really ever heavy at all? She heard the tinkling of the pieces as she hit the sack with the corner of the board. _So that’s what they were stored in_. She set the board down and picked up the velvet sack, surprised to feel parchment rub against her fingers.

The chess set was forgotten on the desk as soon as she saw _Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan_ written in Cullen’s penmanship.

It almost felt…wrong to even consider opening the letter without notifying Deshanna. She had a brief thought of her finger being scorched as she ran it over the wax stamp. But curiosity took the better of her, her mind trying to justify it by saying that it would never be delivered.

> _Dear Keeper,_
> 
> ___We haven’t had the fortune of meeting, though I’m sure the Inquisitor has shared as many stories about me as she has of you. The tales she shares with the Inquisition sometimes seem too hilarious to really be true. Whether they are honest or flourished here and there, I want to express my gratitude for raising and influencing her as you have._
> 
> ___I am aware her parents died while she was still very young, and that you extended to her hospitality that isn’t often seen even among humans. Because of this, I wondered if I could possibly substitute you for a parental figure as well._
> 
> ___The Inquisitor and I have been together for quite a while. My feelings for her are only rivaled by the love in stories told to young children. I would like to ask for her hand in marriage when the time is right. As such, I feel like it would be wrong to do so without your blessing. I’m certain it’s not necessary in a situation like this. However, it felt strange to not even inquire on the subject._
> 
> ___While I know there will be some time between the writing of this letter and the actual proposal, I give you my word that I will not do so until I have your response._
> 
> ___Sincerely,  
>  _ _Commander Cullen Rutherford_  
> 

While she had been reading, she hadn’t noticed the small drops that had caused the ink to become slightly blurry on the page. She had tried so hard not to think about what could have been, and now it all came rushing towards her.

Would Deshanna have said yes? Would they have actually gotten married? Perhaps started a family?

She set the letter atop the chess board, fearful she might crush it in her emotional state. It was then she saw the small box hiding in the corner of the crate. Knowing what it was, what it would do to her, she still reached for it and opened it.

The ring inside was beautiful, despite being very simple in design. The thought of him, stumbling over words, forcing himself to get to the point of it, getting down on one knee, it was the final crack needed to break the dam.

She fell to the floor, unable to stop the tears, the sobs. She heard his sword falling, hitting the floor with her. Someone who heard the break in silence would come to check on her at any moment. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered right now.

She had turned into a vessel of grief, of sadness, of emotions that no one would be able to fix for her.

_I am sorry for your loss, Inquisitor._

So was everyone.

So was she.


End file.
